I get why people might think raising a non-verbal child with autism is difficult. Navigating this journey hasn’t been straightforward. From the outset, we’ve encountered numerous challenges, each teaching us invaluable lessons about love, patience, and understanding.

Raising any child is difficult, though, if you’re trying to do it right. You take the good with the bad and find balance.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s a different level with a child like my son. There’s a sense of the unknown, especially when they’re younger. You know what you see in other families with similar children and try to apply it to your own future.

Let me share a glimpse into our world. Through specific instances from our daily life, the complexity and beauty of raising Lucas become evident. The fear is that the behaviors children like my son will display, similar to the ones emerging when they’re small, will always be confusing. You’ll never know when they’re hungry, happy, tired, or anything. You wonder if they’ll know who you are or ever grasp the concept of love. All the biggest fears that a parent can have all happen at once.

Time is the only way to get past that, but that’s such a tired phrase left for desperate parents to ponder. What does that even mean?

Well, at least as it has related to me and Lucas, I can tell you what it means in our world. Time has allowed me to grow alongside him. I’ve watched as some of his most enigmatic reactions to various situations started to become clearer with age. I know what it means when he acts a certain way or why various tasks cause such surprising responses

To truly appreciate the nuances of our journey, it’s essential to understand some of the autism-specific behaviors Lucas exhibits. Whether it’s actions like laughing himself silly, just as he hits the point of exhaustion, or crying over innocuous parts of his Sesame Street YouTube show, my boy has those strange quirks that I just know as a parent. We all have them with our children, whether they are on the spectrum or not, and know how to spot them.

When it comes to my son, though, I’ve learned that so many of his mysterious behaviors aren’t so mysterious when you see them through your own lens.

So many of his base reactions are very much in line with my own. His expression of emotion and responses to things he loves mirrors what I, and many others, would do in his place.

Give Lucas his iPad after a long day and he loses his mind with excitement. He jumps up and down, clapping and cheering. He’s over the moon with joy. It can be overwhelming for both him and anyone in his orbit at that moment.

I get him being ecstatic over getting his favorite thing. Do you? Of course, you do. All of us would want to get an iPad full of some Netflix show we’re binging after a long day and do the Balki Dance of Joy. Without the social graces that make us all act so prim and proper, we’d be screaming and cheering with delight.

My son’s emotions burn brighter than anyone else’s. That’s a huge key to who he is. When he’s hungry, he’s suddenly starving. When he’s tired, he’ll pass out on a roller coaster. Seriously, I’ve seen him.

One of the biggest elements of his life is his iPad. I’m not talking about the communication device, but his fun-time device. It’s his security blanket and a source of stimulation and entertainment – both in the most positive and negative sense of the word.

Lucas gets to use that iPad a lot. For the longest while, it was his soother. During his younger years, handing him the device would present you with an hour of quiet while trying to eat at a restaurant or watch a recital. He would quietly sit and scroll away.

That was a million years ago. Now, he’s more apt to turn rowdy over it. He’s jumping, screaming, and kissing me – hard – on the cheek. It’s how I know we’re entering the stratosphere.

Because of this, I don’t have him bring it into restaurants anymore. It was a daunting decision and one that came with a rough start. Taking it away before exiting the car is our first hurdle.

However, as I said, there are aspects to all of this that echo actions that I would do, albeit at a lesser level. If I had spent the morning reading a book or watching a show and someone tried to take it from me, I’d be unhappy. Who wouldn’t be? I might not scream and cry, but in my heart, I might want to.

But once it was gone, if I enjoyed the activity I was attending, I’d be happy. Considering that this activity involved food he loved, I knew he’d be happy the moment he jammed some chicken strips into his little face.

What followed was one of our most mellow meals ever. Like a little angel, Lucas sat next to me and just looked around the room. He ate nicely and didn’t act out at all. It’s crazy because as it happened, I didn’t think much of it. Writing it out now, I’m so proud of him for it.

The best way to explain it is that his iPad, to him, is like seeing your favorite team get a touchdown. Rewinding and pausing Grover’s yell at the exact right moment sends him into a frenzy and he reacts accordingly. His wild grabbing is like having a buddy aggressively wrapping his arm around you and forcing a hard high-five. When he gets too into his device, he’s in that mode the entire time.

Sadly, what separates him from the overzealous neurotypical football fan is that Lucas can’t pull it back and realize he’s over the top. Rather, my poor little guy goes on and on with the volume turned up to 100 until he passes out.

That’s where I come in. It’s my job to spot these moments and help him regulate them. It’s a duty that I feared I would never understand well enough to do. Yet, here we are, ten years later and we’re crushing it. I couldn’t be prouder of the progress he’s making.

As Lucas lights up over his iPad, reveling in the bliss of his favorite moments, it mirrors the exhilaration of a well-earned touchdown. In this game of life, where love, understanding, and patience are our guiding principles, these moments of pure happiness are our touchdowns. And just like any dedicated player on the field, we cherish these victories, no matter how small they may seem to the outside world. For us, every touchdown is a reminder of how far we’ve come and a beacon of hope for the journeys yet to unfold.